In Which Slash Clichés are Rampantly Abused
by moosemaster
Summary: Just what the title says- in response to the cliché challenge on the Mash Slash message board. (absurd and silly slash, of course)


WARNING: this is a piece of crap... and a FIFTEEN-MINUTE fic at that... and that's including spell-checking... I didn't proofread, don't even know if it's coherent, and know that even if it is, it's still not worth your while reading it as it is a prime example of PURE UNADULTERATED RUBBISH.  
  
DISCLAIMER: not mine... and if they were, do you think I'd be so stupid as to make the awful career move of creating this... monstrosity? No, I thought not.  
  
In any case, this was written in response to the challenge on the mash slash yahoo list group thingy, from which I lifted many clichés (most of which from Katie Murphy's challenge post), so, read and... er... enjoy?  
  
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away (or at least far enough for clueless wives to have some difficulty reaching their guilty cheating husbands who will, after such an oh-God-what-am-I-DOING call, more than likely need some extreme TLC that, if it hasn't already, will get quite physical and end up with the husband crying out the wrong name and collapsing with sobs and, if available, an all-consuming sense of emptiness), there angst-ed an army surgeon named Hawkeye. Crumpling another letter to Trapper into a tearstained ball, he remembered better times---  
  
begin flashback  
  
"Trapper, I love you... god, I love you so much... I don't know how I could have survived if it wasn't for you, so for now, I shall shed this humorous guise that masks my true pain, and gush like a flowery woman, professing my love for you. You are my life, my love, and we will never part, ever."  
  
"I love you too, Hawk... If I had any memorable attributes besides having curly blond hair and constantly being described as more built than I really am, I'd use them to tell you something meaningful and life-asserting, like every other character does."  
  
Hawkeye pulled Trapper in for a kiss, tongues dueling before going on to perform acts that neither had ever done before, yet both were perfectly competent at, thanks to some fooling around in med. school, the lubricant (that Henry borrowed every now and then to lubricate the reel of his fishing rod) that one of them just happened to have sitting on the shelf between his toothbrush and a martini glass, and the author's penchant for hyperbole and pornographic lovemaking.  
  
Much groaning ensued  
  
"Sorry boys, just figured I'd pop in and get some of that slippery stuff... you know... grease the wheel and all..."  
  
He popped out.  
  
"TRAPPER!" hollered Hawkeye.  
  
"OTHERNAMEBECAUSEIMEASY!" hollered Trapper, and the two collapsed in a sweaty heap on the cot.  
  
end flashback  
  
Hawkeye dried his eyes, and writes a letter to his father detailing the still-torturing-him end of the whole sordid affair in full smutty detail.  
  
.................  
  
Radar collected Hawkeye's letter to his father, humming an innocent tune about plows and chickens, before proceeding to the Good Father's tent, where Father Mulcahy was having a Crisis of Faith. Radar innocently knocked at the door, not wanting to interrupt any penitence or anything, because he was a good little innocent farm boy. The door creaked open, and he was instantly swept into the tent and defiled by a priest who honestly did know better but was tempted, sloshed, and lonely, so it didn't matter, really.  
  
.................  
  
"It's ok, kid," Klinger explained to the trembling Corporal in front of him, "when my parents were making buttons in the factory, they kept their heads high, and told their sons this: 'When your camel's hump loses shape and your dates grow white and moldy and the pompous ass makes fun of your heritage after a glorious night together and you find yourself in line for a Blue Discharge after realizing you just had your first sexual experience. and with a member of the clergy at that, just be thankful that you still have all your teeth."  
  
"Gee, thanks Klinger, I feel much better about it now."  
  
"No problem, kiddo."  
  
And a crash was heard from Potter's office as Flagg appeared, ready to blackmail, hammer in one hand, sickle in the other, and much to say which has been said before, so I shan't retype it, because honestly, Flagg is static.  
  
Potter fled for the Swamp.  
  
.................  
  
"B.J., I love you... god, I love you so much... I don't know how I could have survived if it wasn't for you, so for now, I shall shed this humorous guise that masks my true pain, and gush like a flowery woman, professing my love for you. You are my life, my love, and we will never part, ever."  
  
B.J. looked nervous.  
  
"Hey, this is just like the conversation I had with TRAPPER when WE were screwing!" realized Hawkeye.  
  
"Ah, but I'm different. I have a wife who I'm faithful to."  
  
"Then why- besides the fact that if I didn't have someone to love, I'd be cutting myself, which I probably will anyway because hey, life is shit and I don't feel- are you sleeping with me?"  
  
"Oh god, you're right! I'm so consumed by guilt that I think I'll just have to sleep with you again! Peg!" B.J. sobbed into his pillow, only to bolt upright when Potter strolled in for a glass of gin and a father-son-type chat with the boys.  
  
"Don't worry, boys, your secret's safe with me... I've seen my lion's share of this kind of hoo-ha. After all, they don't call it Fort Dix for nothing!"  
  
Freeze frame on Potter grinning in what he meant to be a chummy manner but what ended up making him look like a lecherous old man, and drinking; Hawkeye looking relieved and in the middle of a particularly unflattering laugh-face (but of course it's only a sham to hide his true feelings of utter desolation)... and drinking; and B.J. looking at the picture of his wife and knowing he is forever changed and that she will never ever understand... and drinking.  
  
The end. Thank god.  
  
I must apologize to all those who I have semi-spoofed, or to those who have written such clichés in the past (myself included, so it's nothing to be ashamed of folks... we still loooooove reading it. They aren't clichés for nothing), and to the human species in general, for my being such a poor example of what we have accomplished in the realm of literature.  
  



End file.
